Pink
by Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors
Summary: Handsome. Beautiful. Perfect. Everything she shouldn't have seen in her cousin, she saw in him. WARNING: COUSINCEST! DRACO/TONKS. SENSUAL CONTENT. ENTRY FOR "EASY"; THE RAVISHING ROMANCE COMPETITION. ONE-SHOT.


**Okay, wow, this one took me a long time to write. Please don't read if you're...uh, how do I say it? Incest-squeamish? Haha! If not, read away :) WARNING: SENSUAL CONTENT. Written for "Easy" in the Ravishing Romance Competition. PLEASE NOTE THAT I DON'T PICTURE THE ACTRESS WHO PLAYED TONKS IN THE MOVIE! Listen to:**

**No Response - Mutemath (I wrote it to this song! Please listen :) )**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

_**~ Pink ~**_

* * *

_August, 1996_

Normally, she took it upon herself to relieve tension.

Whenever the Order's key players were called out into the hall to discuss an "incident," she'd morph her face into some strange bird species she'd never attempted before and turn to Molly or Hermione or whoever it was that appeared the most stricken.

But not tonight.

Because tonight it was she who felt the most stricken...hers whose gut twisted...hers whose stomach dropped.

Because tonight they'd captured another Death Eater.

And because tonight...it was her cousin.

The shouting started at the far end of the hall in 12 Grimmauld Place, heard by the occupants of the kitchen through the thin walls. Kingsley's booming voice resounded above all others, hollering numerous _Silencios _at the captive that, for the love of Merlin, couldn't seem to hold.

And before she'd had a moment to prepare herself, the biting voice of Tonks's cousin echoed down the hall. Cursing and growling and snarling.

Hermione was the next to recognize it, and her hand found Tonks's beneath the table, squeezing tightly. Their eyes connected for a split second.

And then the Aurors were there, dragging the wracking and yet still unbearably familiar form of Draco Malfoy across the kitchen tile. Three rounds of _Incarcerous _later, and he was strapped to one of the chairs, mouth gagged the Muggle way with a bloodstained rag.

His hair had blood in it too.

It was one of the first things she noticed. To see the infamous bleach blond drenched in scarlet was a very odd sight. The black eye was her next discovery, having swollen one of his eyes shut, and what looked to be a nearly broken nose after that.

It didn't take long to figure out how he'd come by such wounds.

One moment it was all silence and stillness, and the next Ron was taking a swing at him. His fist connected with Draco's cheek, a sickening crack and a muffled groan filling the room, and the already soaked gag began to drip scarlet onto her cousin's lap.

Ron pulled back for another go.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, _stop it!" _

It was Hermione who'd spoken. Hermione who'd jumped to her feet and kicked her chair back, while it should've been Tonks.

But Tonks sat frozen, feeling the color drain from her face, just _staring_ at him.

Ron's fist hesitated in midair, eyes gone all soft as he looked back at the girl he so obviously loved. And like clockwork, his arm dropped to his side.

Draco's good eye fell shut, a difficult looking breath blasting from his chest, and he slumped further in the chair, now and again making these strange humming noises into the gag.

Molly appeared at her son's side, taking his arm with shaking hands and slowly pulling him from the room. Neither were seen for the rest of the night.

Kingsley started to explain the situation to the remaining members of the Order, mentioning a skirmish on the outskirts of Malfoy Manor and something about Draco coming to his father's aid. It had been Ron who'd captured him - no doubt for some personal, schoolyard vendetta - and Ron who'd insisted they bring him back as a hostage.

And if Tonks weren't so stricken by the sight of her cousin, she might've questioned why several highly trained Aurors had heeded the will of a _teenager._

As it were, she couldn't get a word out.

"Tonks..." Hermione whispered as Shacklebolt droned on. _"Tonks."_

She glanced sideways at her.

"Are you...are you alright?"

Was she?

She couldn't tell. Years had passed since she'd last laid eyes on her younger cousin, and the last she'd seen of him, he'd been a snotty, slick-haired git with a Daddy complex.

But looking at him now, even with his face so marred...it became clear he'd grown up.

And it frightened her.

It frightened her because she was suddenly overcome with the need to get him out of those bonds. The need to set him free.

The need to _know _him.

She had no family. Her horrid, aristocrat aunt counted for none and her parents were long gone. What had she but this ghost-like boy in front of her, whom she knew next to nothing about?

The one bleeding all over the place.

Her body made a decision before her mind did.

Practically jumping to her feet, she promptly ordered all remaining occupants of the room out, and they, so startled by this snapping, aggressive side of Tonks, actually obliged.

It took less than two minutes to clear the room.

Perhaps it was because they trusted her so wholeheartedly, or because they thought she might deal a few blows to her evil cousin on her own.

You'd think they'd be more careful.

Draco's eye had opened again, watching her warily as she moved about. She was pushing the big, wood table aside and pulling a heavy chair up in front of him, her wand clutched tightly in hand all the while.

And when she finally sat before him, her eyes full of anything but the harshness he'd expected, she didn't hesitate to reach around and pull the gag loose.

Coughing, Draco bent himself over the arm of the chair, spitting out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. He wiped his lips as thoroughly as the_ Incarcerous _would allow, and then turned to face her.

That intense, mercury stare was just as potent, even without the other eye.

"Cousin," Tonks greeted quietly.

She expected some snide remark. Expected to see his lip curl and that ugly sneer twist his face. But he simply replied, "Cousin," in a husky, battered croak.

For a moment, they stared at one another - almost as if they were simultaneously attempting to solve an impossible puzzle.

Then Tonks cleared her throat.

"I'm going to clean you up," she said softly. "And I'm going to let you go."

The way his brows shot up in surprise surely must've hurt his face a bit, and he spluttered out, "What? That's it?"

"That's it."

"_Why?"_

"Because you're all I've got."

* * *

_December, 1996_

The Order hadn't forgiven, and she hadn't forgotten.

The guilt still seeped in now and then, the irresponsibility of her actions plainly evident, but in no way could she convince herself that what she'd done was wrong.

Not when_ everything _about it had felt right.

They'd banned her from Order meetings, many of them convinced that she was some kind of double-agent. It seemed that Hermione was the only one who'd seen another side of it. Tonks rarely spoke to anyone else.

But considering the lack of any Death Eater ambushes, Draco hadn't revealed the location of the Order. And she hoped to Merlin they'd come around and let her back in.

She'd been an asset, after all...once upon a time.

Now she hardly left Grimmauld Place.

And still..._still_ the image of her cousin haunted her. The idea that her only family might've been dead. The mental picture of his bloodied face...

She'd taken to brewing Dreamless Sleep Potion every night before bed, hoping to squash all the darkness in her head. But Dreamless Sleep could have a rather unfortunate side effect, as she found one late winter evening.

She couldn't sleep again. It was the third time this week.

With a muffled growl into her pillow, Tonks rolled from the stiff, spring-stuffed bed, wrapping herself in an old wool bathrobe and padding off downstairs.

When these nights came, she'd sit down in the kitchen and eat some of the cauldron cakes Molly always had in stock. Usually the sleeplessness would pass within the hour.

But this was no such evening.

And before she'd even the chance to open one of the cupboards, a dark, looming figure beside the icebox caught her eye. She felt her hair bleach itself ice blue from the roots down with terror, and she went stumbling backwards into the pantry, the wood handle jabbing into her back.

Her fingers shook so wildly that it took some great struggle to pull her wand from her robe.

"W-Who are you? Step into the light!" she managed, not thinking to cast a _Lumos._

There was a pregnant pause...and then a halfhearted chuckle sounded from the figure. "Forgive me, cousin," said a deep, gentle voice. "I have a habit of lurking in corners."

And the sight of him, slowly stepped out of the darkness - the faint light of the candle on the table flickering across his pale face - paralyzed her.

He was so different.

So..._healthy_ by comparison.

The bruise-splotched, blood-flecked skin she remembered was clear and soft looking, the broken nose healed but for a slight crookedness in the bridge. She could see both his eyes, and the effect of them was more than doubled. Tripled. Exponentially.

And the hair she so easily remembered was once more as white as snow, mussed up around his forehead, almost as hopelessly as Harry's.

He wore a long, black overcoat, hands covered by white kid gloves, and his daunting height, which had not been evident to her before, stuck out quite abruptly now.

She felt sure he'd tower over everyone she knew.

"Clever of you," he noted as she gawked at him in silence. "Keeping your wand ready. But I won't hurt you, Nymphadora." And, as if to punctuate this, he rose his hands to either side of his head.

Habit had the words slipping from her mouth before she realized. "Don't call me Nymphadora."

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, and he bowed his head just slightly. "As you like it."

But by Merlin, he was being so...

So...

_Cordial! _

The little brat he was rumored to be couldn't have been anything like this. Even the boy they'd dragged in those months ago had had quite the mouth on him.

What _was_ this?

"What do you want?" she forced out, voice harsher than was intended.

His eyes flicked over her - up and down - and he answered quietly, "Just to thank you."

Thank her?

"_Thank me?" _

He lowered his hands, deftly sliding them into the pockets of his overcoat. "Yes. For letting me go. I hear it's had quite an impact on where you stand here."

"And who told you that?" she demanded, but the disbelief in her tone killed any aggression she might've been hoping for.

"Doesn't matter." And then he was approaching...far more swiftly than she'd expected. _"Put it down,"_ he murmured, his hand already wrapped around her wand.

And the shock of his proximity - of the sensation of his wintery breath on her skin - allowed him to press her arm down to her side.

She'd only just begin to recollect her wits when he leaned over her, pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and whispered, "Thank you, cousin. Happy Christmas."

And then he was gone.

And she didn't have to look to know her hair was as pink as her cheeks.

* * *

_January, 1997_

Handsome.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Everything she shouldn't have seen in her cousin, she saw in him.

Deranged dreams of his hand clasped in hers. Of his lips on her skin. Of his scent in her bed. Dreams that left her guilt-ridden and blushing.

And all this from mere minutes in a room with him.

It was wrong. It was sick.

It was everything she wished she had.

How mental did one have to be to _desire_ their sixteen-year-old cousin? A boy! A boy seven years her junior!

And _Merlin_, what could she think of Remus? The man she'd thought she might grow to love one day?

Merlin, now she could hardly look at him.

And receiving a letter from the object of her deranged affection - god knows how he got it to her - didn't help in the slightest.

_Cousin,_

_I'm sorry I frightened you. Though my family may be many things, they are nothing if not proper. And I was raised to thank those who assist me. _

_You are also my family. I've not forgotten. _

_If you can trust me enough, I want to see you again. Don't be alarmed if you happen upon a figure in the corner._

_Draco_

He wanted to see her...

He wanted to _see _her...

No. No. _No. _But that would only make things worse. She couldn't afford to...she couldn't...

Bugger.

There was no way she'd be able to avoid waiting in that kitchen for him. Every night.

Good thing it didn't take him long.

Only about a week after he'd sent his letter, she sat yet again at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea between her palms, waiting.

He must've been extremely light on his feet...because one moment there was nothing, and the next he was pulling up a chair.

And it took Tonks several minutes to get her breath back.

"You're here," he said, the air around him chilled from the air outside, and his nose pink from the cold. He was wearing the same overcoat and gloves from before, and they brought back vicious memories of that gentle kiss...

"_You're _here," she replied, staring down at her tea.

He was silent for a long while. And then, "Why can't you look at me?"

She saw her hair glow pink out the corner of her eye, and seething, she bit out, "I can too," before forcing her eyes up. That was a mistake.

Those platinum orbs threatened to burn a hole through her head.

"What does pink mean?" he asked with a soft smile, reaching forward to twist a lock of her hair between his fingers. Her eyes widened.

And, as if to answer him, the color deepened to an absolutely chaotic, neon pink. That of none she'd ever seen before.

"Ah...I see," he murmured. "You're blushing."

"Am not!" she quipped, slapping his hand away.

His next smile actually revealed teeth. Sparkling white teeth with sharp, dangerous canines.

Gruffly, she asked, "Why do you want to see me?"

He quirked a pale brow. "Because you're family."

And she failed to hide the small twinge of disappointment. It was clear in the way her hair lost some of its vibrance...in the way her shoulders slumped, if only in the slightest.

Her cousin chuckled again, acting as if they'd been friends for years as he placed his finger neath her chin and titled her head up again. "I have other reasons as well."

Tonks nibbled on her bottom lip, ardently avoiding his gaze.

"Fancy a cup of tea?"

* * *

_February, 1997 (Valentine's Day)_

"How much longer d'you think we'll get away with this?"

They were the first words out of her mouth as he slipped through the kitchen door that evening. He'd still never explained how he kept getting in, even after so many nights spent together.

Draco flashed her a dry look, loosening the scarf around his neck and unbuttoning that oh-so-familiar overcoat.

"I'm not joking," she insisted.

"I know. Your hair is orange." He shot her another boyish grin as he took a seat.

"What?"

"Orange," he said. "Isn't that your 'No Nonsense' hair?"

Tonks rolled her eyes, pushing a mug of hot tea across the table to him.

"To best honest," he answered finally, "I don't think the Order'd notice if they barged into the kitchen right now. Can't see what's right under their noses."

"Stop it. They're smarter than you think."

"Whatever you say, cousin. Whatever you say."

At this, Tonks sobered a bit. "Why do you always call me that?"

He rose a brow. "Well you are my cousin, aren't you?"

She sighed loudly, turning back to her tea, and for a moment, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

"_Tonks,"_ Draco amended at last, and she tried to ignore the crazed shocks of joy shooting through her nerves at the sound of it on his lips. "I brought you a present."

"What for?"

A kind smile lit his face. "It's Valentine's Day."

This brought a heavy blush to her cheeks instantly, and something flickered in Draco's eyes as he watched her hair bleach to that familiar pink he'd grown so fond of.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Where is it?"

"Hang on. There's something I need first." And before she could even contemplate his words, he'd distracted her by knocking aside his mug of tea. As her head snapped to the side, watching the dark liquid seep into the table's wood, she heard him utter one quiet word.

"_Legilimens." _

...

...

Images.

Fuzzy, fragmented images, all painted in the same, odd light - exactly like a dream.

Because they _were _dreams.

_Her_ dreams.

And she was powerless to stop it as they flowed forth like a tidal wave.

_Long, pale fingers gliding up the sensitive skin of her torso. Twirling in circles along her ribcage. _

_A delicate, supple mouth skating the path up her neck to envelop her ear in delicious warmth. _

_Draco's magnetic eyes...everywhere...__everywhere__. _

...

And all at once, the world slammed back to reality.

She found herself gasping for breath, eyes wide as she pushed back from the table, throwing herself to her feet.

"You...you..." she spluttered.

Draco's expression was a mixture of guilt and disbelief, with something else barely hidden behind it. "Tonks..." he managed, quickly standing.

"How...how _dare _you. You're a - you're a spy, aren't you? Damn you, you're a god damn spy! How _dare_ you-"

"No! No! _Merlin,_ no, Tonks."

'What the _hell_ were you think-"

He seized her then, clutching her forearms in a vise grip and dragging her so close their noses brushed. "I had to be sure!" And he shook her once. "I had to be sure..."

"Wh-what-what...what are you _talking_ about? You're mad! You're-"

She could taste him.

She could taste the faint peppermint and wintery cold that were his lips. Draco's lips. Her _cousin's_ lips...on hers.

And for a long time, he remained frozen, their mouths pressed hard together, almost daring her to resist.

But she didn't resist.

How could she resist? How, after dreaming about being with him for so long? After resigning herself to the taboo images constantly plaguing her mind?

Draco had become everything to her.

...And now Draco was every_where_...too.

His taste. His scent. His body heat. His overwhelming _existence. _

And after what felt like forever, when she made no move to pull away, he gently detached and then swept back in, caressing her lips so _perfectly _she wanted to melt.

No boy had ever touched her this way.

Not in all her twenty-three years.

And said boy was about to go further.

Seeming to throw caution to the wind, Draco's gentle, kid-gloved hands found either side of her neck, forcing her hard against his lips and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

She gasped, only serving to give him greater entrance, and before she knew it, her cousin's sinful tongue was tangled around her own.

These little, desperate sounds were wrenched from her throat as he bit and suckled her lips, and he swallowed the noises eagerly, taking her in as if to devour her.

It was certainly the roughest kiss she'd ever endured.

No...endured was the wrong word.

Enjoyed.

Yes, she might as well've been honest.

_Relished._

Somehow, he managed to disconnect himself from her burning lips, beginning to mouth a shining path across her cheek to her jawbone, and then licking a stripe from there to her oversensitive earlobe.

"This is my present," he whispered as he suckled it, dragging it down with his teeth. "I've wanted to give it to you for so long now..."

Tonks could only keen softly in response.

"But I had to be sure," he said. "I had to be sure you would accept me."

_You're so young! _Her conscience screamed. _You're so young! You're so young!_

But for the life of her, she couldn't seem to get those words out of her mouth.

And it wasn't as if he didn't know.

Didn't know that he was still a boy.

Didn't know that he was her cousin.

Didn't know that this was more than illegal.

He knew.

And later he would tell her that he just didn't give a shit.

His hands.

_Oh_, his hands.

Those sensual, glove-clad beauties were everywhere all at once, and only when they found the tie of her wool bathrobe could her senses really hone in on them.

He parted the robe with far more vigor than was necessary, creating a swoosh of air on either side of her, and pressed his ever-warming body against her thin nightclothes.

And his last words to her, before all else was swallowed up by the sounds of gasps and groans and cries of wanton ecstasy, were simply,

"I like your hair best...when it's pink."


End file.
